Dean Auditions for the Diet Coke ads
by nileflood
Summary: A hot, boring summer leads to PWP.


**bTitle: /b **Dean Auditions for the Diet Coke Advert **  
>bAuthor: b ** **nileflood**  
><strong>bRating: b **NC-17  
><strong>bGenre andor Pairing: /b **Dean/Cas, mentions of Sam/Gabriel  
><strong>bWarnings: b **smexing  
><strong>bWord Count: b ** approx 1500  
><strong>bSummary: b **A get-better present for bellacatbee. Hope she feels better soon 3

It was mid-summer, and the heat was stifling. Dean was laying on his back on what was left of the sofa in the old farm-house, a cold beer pressed against his forehead. Sam and Gabriel were outside somewhere- he could hear Gabriel yelping and giggling, and he really didn't know what they were doing. They'd spent the morning searching for a garden hose, or so Castiel had told him. That was as much as anyone would need to know, but Dean was certain that tonight Gabriel would tell him iall/i about it. And probably make Sam die from embarrassment in the process.

Dean smiled to himself, stretching slightly and moving the can to his throat, gasping slightly at the sudden chill on his skin. But it felt good. There wasn't any breeze, even though every window and door in the rundown place was open, there was no air-con, no fans, and nothing to do. Even the ghosts were laying low.

Dean was fine with that.

He forced himself to sit up, hearing a shuffling sound from the stairs. Castiel was stood at the bottom, looking sticky and uncomfortable but flashing a little smile at Dean as he saw him. "Hello, Dean."

"Cas, aren't you melting?"

Castiel tilted his head, frowning. There was sheen of sweat on his skin, but he was still wearing that trench-coat, a shirt, a tie. Black, tailored suit trousers, for fucks sake. Dean was wearing a thin white t-shirt, and the last time he'd seen Sam, he wasn't even wearing a shirt. Gabriel was probably 'sky-clad'. "No, I don't think so Dean. My internal temperature-"

Dean sighed, and Castiel stopped. "I didn't mean it like that." He said, and got up off the sofa, beer set down on the coffee table and he pulled Cas around, forcing him to sit down, and sitting opposite him, on the edge of the coffee table. Angels could probably regulate their own body temperature on a whim or something, but that didn't seem to be what Cas was doing right then. Dean made a face, studying the trench-coat and the shirt and the rest of it, and then caught the tie between his fingers. "We need to get you out of this."

Cas opened his mouth, as if to protest, but one of Dean's hands was planted on his chest, pushing him down into the sofa cushions as the other hand began to loosen his tie. And then open his shirt and Cas felt his throat dry as his skin was exposed. Dean's eyes were roving over him, over each new exposed patch of skin, over every line, and Castiel shivered as if that gaze was a caress. He breathed a little deeper, and then Dean's fingers released him, reaching for the beer-can, opening it and gulping down a mouthful, the droplets of water on the can and the line of Dean's throat as he swallowed possibly the most erotic thing Cas had ever seen. Forget hotel-room porn and visits to brothels.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and Dean's eyes opened, flying to him. And he was wearing a little smirk, setting down the can and going back to Castiel, finishing the knot of the tie and then holding both ends, the smirk growing as he pulled Cas forward, crushing their mouths together. Cas didn't react, too surprised to do anything, his lips parted and invaded by Dean's beer-tainted tongue. All the other times they'd done this; it had been in the dead of night, with the motel door locked, and Sam in another room down the hall. Never in the day, never with the door open, almost begging to be caught.

The kiss left Cas panting, when it broke, and Dean still smirking. The angel's lips were red, swollen and wet, and it took all of Dean's resolve not to go back for a second kiss. He didn't though, just pulling the tie from around Castiel's neck in a fluid jerk, wrapping it around his hand like some back-alley boxer before looking over Cas again. His shirt was undone; his legs spread wide and the surprised look still on his face. Dean didn't think he'd ever seen the angel look better.

He reached forward, burying his fingers into Castiel's black hair, kissing him again because he couldn't hold back, and letting the other hand force the trench-coat and the shirt half-way down Castiel's shoulders. Not off, just down, and then Dean couldn't just sit there on the coffee table. He moved forwards, pushing Castiel onto his back, and then bearing down on him, knelt between his legs on the couch. Cas made a shocked noise, but it quickly turned into a groan as Dean rutted their hips together, grinding hard and as he pressed down, Cas was lifting his head up. He'd always thought human mating was rather coarse and unpleasant, but now he'd experienced it, he knew the exact opposite was true. It was a glorious thing of passion and emotion and undeniable need, and that was what he felt now.

His hands moved to Dean's back, sliding under his shirt, over the muscles and sinew, and his nails bit in as Dean's mouth found the angel's throat, kissing and nipping over the skin, finding that sensitive little spot and nipping a little harder, feeling the angel tense and relax underneath him.

"D- Dean," Castiel managed to gasp out, pressing his hips more insistently upwards now, the hard bulge of his cock through those stupid fancy trousers grating against Dean's own erection, confined in his jeans. If there was ever a more pressing noise, Dean hadn't heard it, but Cas' voice made him fumble, forcing the trousers open and tugging them down, hand curling around Castiel's length, skin and polyester of the tie still coiled around Dean's hand such an odd, delicious mix of sensation. He shuddered under Dean, feeling Dean's weight lift from him as the man struggled his way out of his jeans, kicking them off.

And when Dean looked up, over the angel, his cock hair, his trousers pooled at his feet, his chest bare and wet with sweat, his shirt and coat hanging from his shoulders, his parted lips red with kisses and a welt bright on his neck, he had to fight to control himself.

"One minute" He promised, although he was less than that, the sofa creaking as he moved back to Cas, kissing him hard and hungry, his fingers coated with something thick, slippery, pressing between Castiel's thighs, stroking over his cock and making the angel groan again. Dean liked that noise, the neediness of it, but the noise Cas made when a finger teased around his entrance was so much more intense. It reached down into Dean's soul and grabbed him, pulled an answering groan from his lips and then there was a second finger, opening Cas up, scissoring inside him, coating him with oil until the angel hissed that it was enough.

Dean nodded, shifting his hips and running his hand over himself, before lining himself up and pressing in. Cas's legs wrapped around him as soon as he was in, locking around him and pressing him back, ignoring the pace that Dean had wanted to set and trying to bury Dean's cock as deep in him as he could, keening for it. The heat surrounding him was so intense, so much, that Dean couldn't stand it, couldn't hold himself back, rocking hard and fast into Castiel as the angel clawed at his back, their kisses bruising now, frenzied as hips smashed together.

And then Dean was reaching between them, Castiel's cock leaking against his belly and Dean stroked him, fist tight around him as he felt Cas's movements get more and more frantic, orgasm hitting him as if he hadn't expected it, body tightening around Dean, riding out his own orgasm with deep, uneven breaths.

uEpilogue/u

It was cooler in the evening, after sunset. Dean had a barbecue going as the stars began to pepper the purple night sky, Gabriel and Castiel sat on the ground as Gabriel tried to explain mud-wrestling. It was peaceful, and Dean was glad of it. He wasn't about to give up his life on the road, but this, this was good. Family, safety, they were things he prized. And right then he had them, and maybe next month he wouldn't. That was how his life was, how it was for all of them.

They loved the lifestyle they had, or they'd stop, and he knew it. Maybe in a few years they would, maybe for Christmas, like they promised Bobby, they'd find somewhere to settle. But not right now.

"Sam!" He shouted, spoiling the peace and quiet of the place. "How long you going to be?" Burgers wouldn't wait forever.

His brother appeared at the door then, bowl of salad in one hand, six-pack of beers in the other. "Sorry Dean." He muttered, setting everything down on the make-shift pallet table. "But I couldn't find the salad oil."


End file.
